


Thermodynamics

by caswell



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Character Analysis, Gen, Self-Harm, the sarumi is pr minor btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:25:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9279845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caswell/pseuds/caswell
Summary: A study of the internal balances of ice and fire in both Saruhiko and Misaki.





	

It's been years since Saruhiko left Homra behind, but there's still a spark in him. It's painful, sometimes, this tumultuous mix of ice and fire, almost making him nervous when the kindling deep in him catches on fire without his permission or desire. It used to happen whenever he saw Misaki, as if the flame in him was contagious- though Saruhiko knew that wasn't the truth; it was his own mind twisting his emotions into something sharp and deadly. Granted, the fire was still there despite them being together again, it just manifested in somewhat… different ways.  
It wasn't just that, though- there was always them, the root cause of all his problems, those he refused to call his parents, even though he couldn't run away from his bloodline. It was filthy blood, and in his weaker moments- stronger? Well, the fire was stronger- he'd tried to… rid himself of it. For a few blessed years, he didn't at all for fear of Misaki finding out, but it was surprisingly easy to lapse into old habits once the two of them had gone their separate, yet still painfully intertwining, ways. It was a temporary fix, but the fire in him dimmed a bit when the blood seeped from the narrow cuts, letting out the filth of his so-called parents.  
Nobody at work knew about his past, though it was clear to just about everyone that something had happened- Saruhiko could tell that, even though they tried to reach out on occasion, they could tell just how fucked up he could be. Or maybe that was just the paranoia talking. ...Either way, he didn't particularly care about how they felt about him; they weren't the important ones. Still, them not knowing precisely what had gone wrong in his life was troublesome. Those 'bonding moments’ would sometimes turn to the topic of parents- “Ah, Fushimi-san, what're your parents like?” “I wonder if they're anything like you.” “Perhaps you take after your father.” The last one was just a shot in the dark, but the bullet would just barely miss his heart. Whenever he could get back to his dorm, he would let the flame consume him, a sharp contrast to the icy exterior that he almost always kept. His desperate scramble was not for logic, trying to convince himself he wasn't like that man at all, that he was his own person; no, it was for something, anything at all to get some relief- a razor, if he had one on hand, or his own fists. It was a miserable life he lead, handed down to him from miserable people.  
Now it was sometimes unpredictable, the burning feeling creeping up on him and settling into his veins before he knew what was happening. Saruhiko wasn't particularly surprised that something like this should happen to him. Mood swings had become normal a long time ago, God knows they'd probably always be normal because nobody understood him enough to help. Maybe Misaki, but then again, he'd always embraced the fire within him. It was why he'd fit in so naturally with Homra, the source of his resentment; perhaps that was also part of why he himself wanted to get rid of it. Being icy cold was safe; you wouldn't get hurt if you weren't an inviting hearth, a campfire to sing songs around.  
Thinking of it, the two of them made a perfect winter scene: Misaki the warm fireplace, himself the biting cold outside.

The ice that resides in Misaki is more subtle, like the frost that comes a few days before the first real snowfall of the year. It only rears its head once in a while, but it freezes him to the spot, sends a chill down his spine. The ice first settled in him at sixteen, when he was severed from his best friend- no, not severed from, pitted against. A cold wave had washed over him as if he was submerged in an ocean, not the type of cool water he would swim in during the summer but the freezing depths of a wintery sea, when his mother asked him, “How's Saruhiko?” With a numb voice, he answered, “Don't know.” That'd been enough of a hint for her.  
Things were better now- mostly, anyhow; a bit of hurt still lingered in the depths of his heart, and Misaki knew it was mutual- but the ice hadn't melted despite the ever-burning flame that, he mused, he had in place of a soul. There was less fire in his life now, after all, two of the hottest and brightest extinguished right after another. It'd started with a phone call, not one to his own but to Kusanagi's, though he'd always been nosy. (Saruhiko could attest.) He couldn't remember the words Tatara had said once Misaki demanded he be put on speaker, and frankly, he didn't want to. The rest of the night was perfectly clear in his memory, and that was more than enough, a freezing infection permanently festering in the back of his mind, stealing into his thoughts whenever he let himself relax for even a moment.   
Misaki was, quite literally, surrounded by snow when the second fire went out, flaring indescribably before it flickered out of existence. The red lights that drifted into the winter evening's air was comical, a stark contrast to the ice that had come over him, a despair so deep that it made him lose his breath for a moment. He still had it in him to cry, it wasn't a numbing cold, but there was less in him; less fire, less life, less direction. It was shameful, he realized, his idolatry. Ashes to ashes.  
But, even if it couldn't melt everything in its path, the fire in him still burned bright, hot enough for Misaki to at least ignore the ice that haunted the corners of his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> I got out of the swing of writing, damn. Here's this short thing I guess! It's probably kind of messy but I wanted to be done with it; I hope it's enjoyable anyway!


End file.
